


Home for Christmas

by spinner33



Series: CM - Close to Canon [45]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5408963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinner33/pseuds/spinner33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is awake on Christmas Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home for Christmas

From Jack’s vantage point, high up on the second floor landing, it looked like a skinny reindeer in dark brown sweats and a pale blue muffler was parked on its butt in the middle of the dining room floor. Fake, brown antlers rose tall from short hair. Every time the reindeer turned his head to reach for another tool, or bobbed his head in time with the Christmas music playing low in the background, the tiny bells on his fake antlers would jingle.

Since Jack had gone to bed a couple hours ago, the table and chairs had been pushed against the far wall to make room to work. The lights on the huge tree were winking and blinking, throwing a multi-colored glow around the low-lit room, across the presents, the furniture, and the surreal figure. Glitter was fairly drizzled on every branch of the holiday tree, and anytime someone got too near, sparkly wisps would follow in their wake wind. Jack had tested this cool discovery several times himself, running past the tree faster and faster to disturb the glitter, until finally his father had scolded him for being too boisterous. Jack wasn't the only thing stirring around the tree though. 

As the skinny reindeer worked, the central heating came to life, picked up the loose glitter, and threw it all around him. Reid groaned in annoyance. He got up on his hands and knees, and he crawled under the tree, between the big boxes and presents. His bony bottom was sticking out, a lot like the wild deer Jack would spot from the car window when they were driving. There was a clanking noise near the floor. The air stopped moving around the holiday tree, and the glitter stopped floating in the air. Satisfied, Papa crawled back to his work spot. Bike parts were resting on the floor in easy reach from where he was working. The twisting and cranking noises had roused Jack from his sleep. 

Jack put both hands over his mouth to stifle his happy shout. Uncle Dave had asked Jack a couple weeks ago about what he wanted from Santa this year, but Jack had completely forgotten about that conversation until now. A new bike had been on the top of that list. The clank of metal-on-metal, the sound of ratchets rotating, and the rise and fall of elbow points indicated that Papa was assembling the bike. Uncle Dave must have talked to Daddy and Papa instead of Santa Claus! Jack had almost forgotten about Christmas itself, what with everything else going on. Yesterday, he and Daddy had finished moving their things back to their own house, with help from the people Daddy worked with and also the people who followed Papa around. Today, Daddy and Jack had brought Papa home from the hospital finally. Tomorrow would be Christmas! Jack had been so caught-up in all the other goings-on that presents hadn't seemed important this year. 

Jack buzzed with excitement. He wanted a better look at what was going on, so he pressed his small face to the railings. Stretched out at a small distance around the antlered figure in reindeer brown were four long strips of yellow tape which read *CAUTION* to all directions. Jack wondered who that was meant to ward away. 

The answer was quickly evident. The smell of hot chocolate drifted upwards to fill the landing. A tall figure in dark blue sweats came out of the kitchen and approached the caution tape, holding two mugs of frothy brown liquid with two tiny candy canes hanging out of them. Daddy was munching on one of the white frosted cookies with silver-sprinkles that Aunt Penny had said Jack should leave out for Santa. Daddy was holding the cookie in his teeth before drawing it into his mouth and chewing briskly. 

“Nope. Stop,” Reid threatened, wielding a wrench backwards at the sound of footfalls. “Stop.”

Papa had been talking a little strangely since he had awakened from his long sleep six days ago. Daddy had whispered to Jack that this was not unexpected, and that they shouldn't act like anything was different, because they would make Papa feel self-conscious. Words had never been a problem before, but now sentences were a struggle. Papa could spit out one or two words at a time, with small pauses between, but somehow still, he would get his point across, either with gestures, or with facial expressions, or by outright grabbing and holding onto whoever he was talking with. The more he spoke, the smoother his speech became. It had taken Papa more than half an hour to read a story to Jack before bed, but as the story moved forward, his cadence sounded more normal. It was clear Papa was frustrated by the speech problem, but Daddy had said not to worry – that speech therapy would remedy the problem in no time. All he had to do was read War and Peace aloud to himself, and things should be back to normal. 

“But I have cocoa,” Hotch offered. 

“Can. You. Read?” the reindeer pointed to the tape.

“Nope,” Hotch swallowed and smiled. 

“You. Like. Those. Knees?” the reindeer warned. 

“I won’t tell you what to do. I swear.”

“Bullshit,” Reid murmured, eyes lighting up with amusement.

Aaron crossed the caution tape and sat down behind Reid, nestling together with him. Spencer put down the wrench he was holding, and scooped up one of the mugs. He inhaled happily, took a sip, and leaned back into the embrace that Hotch was wrapping around him. 

Jack hadn’t seen Daddy smiling like that for the longest time. Jack understood that no matter how much he had missed his Papa, that Daddy had missed Papa even more so. Daddy hadn’t stopped hugging and kissing Papa since early this afternoon when they had finally brought him home. Hotch had been putting his arms around Reid, petting his shoulder, and touching his hair. The two of them had held hands behind Jack while they had all sat together on the sofa, like three fat frogs on a log, and watched old movies after dinner. It was like Daddy couldn’t be close enough, or hold Papa long enough, to convince himself that the moment he let go, Papa wouldn’t disappear once again. The thought of that made Jack feel sorry for Daddy. He had been so afraid of losing Papa forever that it was going to take some time before that fear faded. Jack thought about one of the tales that Aunt Julia had told him – about the man who played a small harp, who went down into Hell to find his lost wife and bring her back. Was that what Daddy was thinking about too?

“Munch. Munch?” Reid asked as he brushed crumbs off Hotch’s mouth and chest. 

“I didn’t eat all of Garcia’s cookies,” Hotch assured him. “Are you interested?”

Reid nodded eagerly. 

“Good. Dr. Rhodes told me you need to put on some weight,” Aaron said. 

“Bony. Butt?” Reid mused. 

“Too thin. Gotta feed you up,” Hotch whispered, nosing Reid’s cheek. “Look at you. Your eyes are drooping. You should be asleep,” he chided tenderly. “If you have any hope of getting reinstated soon, you have to get some rest, Reid.” 

Papa sighed. That was all he had to say. 

“Now, don’t worry. You have nothing to be concerned about,” Hotch soothed. “I’ve put in a special request, pulled a few strings. I’ll see to it that you come back to the BAU, come Hell or high water. The Brass can go hump themselves. But first you need to pass your physical, your psych test, and your firearms reevaluation….”

Papa groaned and hung his head even lower. 

“Don’t worry,” Daddy whispered. “Don’t stress out about it. For the moment, what you need to do is rest, and build yourself back up. We'll take this one day at a time, one problem at a time.” 

“Not tired.”

“You fell asleep in the car on the way home.”

“Soothing,” Papa insisted. "Engine."

“You fell asleep watching tv.” 

“Always,” Papa shrugged. 

“You fell asleep in the bathroom,” Hotch teased. 

“Rude!” Papa replied, frowning. "Private!"

“I wouldn’t have come in if I hadn’t been worried about you. Why don’t you go slip into your pj’s, and I’ll finish this?” Hotch whispered, nudging the pale blue muffler aside so he could nose kisses on the back of Reid’s neck and along his shoulder. 

“Jack,” Reid said anxiously. 

Worried he had been spotted, Jack pulled back out of sight for a second, but then he couldn't hear the reply, so he leaned over again. 

“What about Jack?” Hotch asked. Reid was pointing to the Christmas tree. 

“Happy….” Reid pushed out the word. 

“He’s very happy,” Hotch replied. Reid shook his head, pointing again at the tree. 

“Happy,” Papa repeated. 

“You want to give him a happy Christmas?” 

Reid nodded vigorously, and touched the nearest limb. 

"Fresh. Cut. Eastern Shore? Smell. Salt air?" 

“Torg mentioned to Rossi that his sister lives near a Christmas Tree farm," Hotch smiled. 

Reid pointed around at the decorations that glittered and glowed. He scraped one arm forward and awkwardly picked up one of the smaller presents, giving it to Hotch. 

“Want. To do. More. For Jack,” Papa sniffled. 

Hotch examined the tag. Although it read ‘from Santa to Jack’ the handwriting clearly belonged to JJ. He put the present back under the tree. Jack wondered where all the decorations and presents had come from. Daddy had said they would put up a tree once they had Papa home, but when they had walked back in the house this afternoon, they found find it decked out in all this tremendous glory, swathed in color, light, and magic. Papa had blinked back tears as he stared around. Daddy had made several phone calls before dinner, but Jack wasn’t sure to whom. Daddy had come out of the kitchen grinning and red-eyed, like he had been crying. Did Daddy have Santa on speed-dial? Had Santa made an early stop at their house this Christmas Eve? And if he had, why did Papa have to put Jack’s bike together? That was very odd. 

“Happy,” Reid insisted anxiously. Hotch finally realized what he was driving at. 

“Jack understands.”

“Want. To make. Him. Happy,” Reid rambled. The more he talked, the better he sounded! 

“Reid, believe me, Jack understands. He’s happy to have you home, and he’s going to have a happy Christmas. We'll both make sure of that. But if you push yourself too hard, you’ll wind up back in the hospital. You need to take it easy. You need to rest and build yourself back up. You can’t remedy everything in one day. It’s going to take time. It might take lots of time.”

“Slow. Sloppy. Horrible.”

“You are not slow or sloppy or horrible. That’s enough of that. I think you're overtired. It’s time for Santa’s Little Reindeer to be in his stall, with a plaid blanket over his rump, all tucked in for the night,” Hotch murmured, kissing the back of Reid’s neck again, nosing his short-cropped hair. “I’ll finish the bike,” Aaron promised. "Off to bed with you."

“Bad idea,” Reid decided, giving Hotch the mug. 

“Why?”

“You. With Tools?” Reid said, then shook his head. 

“Okay, sure, so ‘assembly required’ is not exactly my forté, but how hard can it be?” 

Reid straightened his antlers and gave a quirky sideways smile with the left half of his mouth. 

“We’ll finish putting the bike together, but then you will go to bed,” Hotch intoned sternly, putting both cups of cocoa behind himself across the caution tape, and turning back to Reid. 

“Good,” Reid agreed. 

Hotch stroked under Reid's chin, turning his face sideways. Aaron leaned in to kiss Papa, who reached both arms around Hotch. Aaron was caressing Reid’s back, and leaving a trail of kisses down Spencer’s chin towards his Adam’s apple. 

“Mmm. Messy,” Reid whispered softly. 

“I’ll show you messy later,” Hotch promised. Whatever that meant, Jack frowned. They continued to kiss noisily. Jack thought he might be able to creep away while they were busy, but the landing creaked under his foot. Papa and Daddy jolted apart. 

“Did you hear something?” Aaron asked, darting his eyes around. Jack gasped and inched back into the shadows. 

“Goody?” Reid whispered, picking up his wrench again. 

“Yeah, probably,” Aaron agreed. He stood up and steadied the bike frame as Spencer rolled the front tire into place. It took Reid several tries to slip the nuts on either side of the tire. He tightened them with all his strength. 

“Can we adjust the height of the seat?” Aaron wondered, jiggling it back and forth. Reid frowned playfully at him, and lightly poked his hand with the wrench. 

“Nope. Is. Perfect.”

“We need to adjust it. Jack is taller than this.”

“Monkey,” Reid frowned.

“What?” Hotch asked. 

“Keep your. Hairy. Monkey knuckles. Off. Stop it,” Reid said, giving Hotch another pop on the hand with the wrench, this one heavier than the first had been. Aaron jerked his hand back, and almost dropped the bike frame on Reid. 

“Hey,” Hotch protested with a broad grin. He was obviously happy that Papa was being so stern and spunky.

"Leave it," Reid growled, tightening bolt for the handlebars and the nuts that held the tire. Hotch was staring around the dining room again.

“Did Garcia put mistletoe in every doorway?” Aaron asked.

“Yep,” Spencer smiled crookedly in return. 

“I have never seen so much glitter in all my life,” Aaron whispered, admiring the tree once more. 

“Home,” Reid added. “Sweet. Home.” 

“Yes, it is good to be home. In our own home. Finally,” Hotch replied. His dark eyes lighted on Reid, who returned the stare, but frowned playfully. 

“Hate. That. Blue,” Reid muttered.

“What?” 

“That. Blue,” Reid pointed to the kitchen. 

“Listen here, buddy. The neutral tan color you chose made the kitchen walls look washed-out. The workmen painted it, and I came to look at it, and it was horrible. It was like a sepia painting. It clashed with the cabinets too. I had to go with a different color. I’m sorry that you don’t like it.” 

“That blue is. Horrible,” Reid frowned. “Hideous. Heinous. Hellish. Horrendous.” 

“If you hate it that desperately, we can repaint it,” Hotch promised. Papa gave Daddy a frown at first, but then the frown morphed into a smile. Hotch grinned as he fluffed Papa’s tousled short hair and straightened his antlers. 

Reid turned his attention back to the bike that Hotch was straddling. He pulled with all his might on the bolt for the handlebars, and nearly fell backwards to the floor.

“Careful there, Rudolph,” Hotch said, testing the bolt. He rolled the bike gently back and forth, tested the tires, and straightened the horn that was on the handlebars. “Looks done to me,” he decided.

“Need to. Wrap it,” Reid insisted. Hotch gave him a skeptical look. 

“I don’t care how you camouflage this, Jack is going to know it’s a bike. We’ll put a big bow on it. I can take it from here. Time for bed for you,” Hotch said, narrowing his eyes. 

“Tools back,” Reid said. He slowly climbed to his feet, using Hotch and the bike as leverage. He was wobbling in place. Hotch put the kickstand down on the bike, and moved to steady Reid. He put an arm around Reid’s waist. 

“You're as white as a ghost. Do you need to sit down?”

“Dizzy,” Reid breathed. 

Daddy guided Papa to the dining chairs, carefully setting him down in one. He knelt in front of Papa, rubbing his arm, breathing with him. 

“That’s it. In, out. In, out.” 

“ ‘M okay,” Papa stammered. “Up. Too. Fast.” 

“How did you convince Dr. Rhodes to let you out of the hospital?” Daddy asked, eyes narrowing. 

“Jedi. Mind Trick," Papa snickered. 

"That isn't even remotely funny," Daddy scowled. 

" 'M Fine. Sleepy.”

“Reid? You need to take this seriously. Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing. Are you constantly dizzy? Does it come and go? Are you having headaches? Are you having blurry vision? Are you having double vision?”

“No. No. No. Hover-Hotch. Calm. Down.” 

“This isn’t good. You shouldn't be having dizzy spells. I should take you back to the hospital.”

“Nooooo,” Reid wailed in despair. 

“Listen to me. You tell me if you're not feeling well. Don't tough it out.”

“I am. Fine. Tools,” Reid said. “Garage,” he insisted.

“I'm going to call Dr. Rhodes personally if you have any more dizzy spells. He's worried about residual pressure on vessels in your brain, the risk of aneurysms. I'll take the tools back to the garage. You sit right there. Don’t move an inch,” Hotch said. He stole Reid’s scarf, snatched up the tools, and jumped to his feet. 

“No,” Reid said firmly, taking hold on one of Hotch’s arms. 

“Reid,” Hotch protested, prying himself free. “You sit right there. I mean it. I will be back in a second,” Hotch replied before darting away. 

“HOTCH!” Reid wailed loudly. 

The back door opened and closed. Papa sat in his chair and sulked. 

“Damn it,” he muttered. He took off his fake antlers and set them on the dining room table. 

It took Papa a lot of effort to get out of the chair. Jack wondered if he should run down the steps and help. Papa got to his feet at last, and took a deep breath. He walked slowly forward until he could lean against the wall by the stairs. He fumbled around, rooting through the shadows of the dining room for the bag for the bike, but he couldn’t find it. Jack could see it way back behind the tree, sitting up on the steps themselves. Reid did find the large red bow meant for the bike. He draped the bow through the handlebars and parked the bike carefully beside all the other presents that were sprawled over the floor in front of the tree. 

Goody came darting into the dining room. He went past the tree and grabbed at the wide, silver tinsel garland with both front claws and his teeth. The over-sized tree swayed dangerously. The multi-colored reflections on the wall spun. Papa wrestled Goody for the puffy garland, and caught the leaning tree in the nick of time. Glitter tumbled off the limbs and showered over Papa like green, silver, and red snow from head to foot. He had both arms around the tree and almost fell over holding onto it. Goody was pulling and tugging on the tinsel. 

“HOTCH!” Reid called out as the kitchen door opened. 

Daddy appeared in the dining room, along with a stiff, cold breeze that rose around the banisters and hovered on the landing like a ghost might have. The panic on their faces made Jack want to giggle, but he held himself quiet again. They steadied the tree, and Daddy reached down to pick up Goody and manually pull the tinsel garland from his feline grip.

Goody wiggled out of Hotch’s grip, jumped down, and ran for the far corner of the dining room. Two green eyes peered out of the near darkness. It was apparent even to Jack that the cat remained intensely-focused on the deadly tinsel snake. Papa pointed a warning finger at the feline, who crept over under the dining room table and bided his time. Goody's tail swished back and forth. The stern look on Reid’s face quickly faded to wistful love. Goody chirped from his hiding place and nestled back further into the darkness. 

“Cold,” Papa shivered. "Damn door open." He waddled towards the kitchen archway, holding onto the wall on one side and then the other, like someone walking the rolling deck of a ship at sea. 

“Hey. Stop. Where are you headed?” Hotch asked, following him. The back door closed with a loud bang. Daddy reappeared, tugging Papa along. He brushed and blew glitter out of Reid’s hair, dusting it off his shoulders and his chest as they came back to the dining room. Jack was caught, leaning on the railing to follow them, afraid to move one way or the other, because they were bound to see him now if either of them looked up. 

“Dishes. In dishwasher,” Papa said, pausing on one foot.

“Reid. The dishes will wait. It's bedtime. Don’t make me get my handcuffs,” Hotch was whispering, pulling Reid along by one arm. 

“Bossy butt,” Reid smiled. Hotch put the half-finished mugs of cocoa up on the stairs, where he could pick them if he wanted to. Then he swooped towards Reid and wrapped both arms tight around him. 

“Bedtime,” Aaron repeated sternly. He pulled Reid along as he went into the tv room and silenced the Christmas music. There were scuffling noises. They reappeared. Daddy was carrying Papa up on one shoulder, and Papa was trying to get loose. Hotch spun him around once, then stopped when several things happened at once. Reid saw Jack, and gasped out, arms flailing. Hotch heard Reid gasp, and was worried he had hurt him. Hotch also saw Jack, and immediately he stopped clowning around. Jack realized he was busted, and he froze to the spot where he stood. 

“Down. Down,” Reid insisted, patting Hotch on the head. Aaron carefully set Spencer’s feet on solid ground, then turned again to face Jack.

“How long have you been there?” Aaron boomed. 

Although Daddy was scowling at first, he was grinning a second later, with his dark eyes twinkling merrily. Jack peeped in alarm, and quickly scampered back into his bedroom. He slammed the door with a loud bang. 

Jack knew that the shuffling sounds meant Daddy was helping Papa climb the stairs. He could hear Daddy murmuring something like, "Left, right, left right, left right." Somewhere in the middle, the shuffling stopped, which probably meant Daddy was carrying Papa again. The shuffling resumed on the landing, amidst soft whispers and one quirky snicker. 

Jack’s bedroom door opened, but by that time, Jack was already back in bed, lying on his stomach, covers pulled up. He was pretending to be asleep. Feet crept across the carpet. Jack opened his eyes to tiny slits. A thin form cast a shadow along the carpet, and a bigger form made the bed tip slightly when he sat on the side of the mattress. The Christmas lights from downstairs were glittering around the heights of the dining room ceiling, and up into his room, warding off the shadows, making the small porcelain angel at his bedside sparkle. He had wanted to keep that particular big-eyed angel because she had blonde hair, and she reminded him of his mother. There was a music box inside the angel. After Daddy or Papa read him a bedtime story, they would wind up the angel's music box, and kiss Jack goodnight, and place the angel down on the table. The small engine inside would whirr as the melody played, fast at first, then more slowly, and the angel would turn, fast at first like the melody, then slower and slower. If she came to a stop facing him, he let her stay where she was, but if she stopped facing the opposite direction, Jack would pick her up and turn the golden key again. He always felt better sleeping with his angel facing him, in case Violet decided to make a return appearance. 

Someone pulled Jack's blanket sideways, lifting his hair in a halo of golden strands. There was no point in pretending, so Jack sat up, but there was no harm in a giving fake yawn though. He added a stretch too, just to make it kinda real. 

“Jack…” Hotch intoned. 

“I was asleep,” the boy replied. 

Papa snickered quietly, leaning on Daddy for support. 

“Jack, no one is opening any presents before six a.m.,” Hotch said. 

Jack whined, “How long is that?” 

“Seven hours,” Reid supplied helpfully. 

“Back to sleep,” Hotch murmured, bending down to kiss Jack on the crown. 

“Can I have another story?” Jack pleaded. He grabbed Daddy with both arms. He buried his face in Daddy's collar bone. 

“No,” Aaron replied, kissing Jack again, hugging him back. Hotch smelled like hot cocoa and peppermint. He was covered with glitter from the tree. His dark blue sweatshirt looked like the clear night sky when all the lights were out. He smelled like the cold air from outside, like smoke and something ancient. He was warm and solid, and his big hands were patting Jack’s back. It was a memory Jack would always have – how big and strong his father was, how the stars themselves glittered across his blue shirt, the way his smile made his eyes crinkle around the edges. Hotch was so much more than a father to Jack. Aaron set the standard by which Jack would judge all other men, and why he would find most of them lacking in comparison. It's hard to compete with a man who fights monsters, a man wears the night stars on his chest, a man who can heal all wounds with magic kisses, a man who had brought his true love back from beyond the grave. 

“Can I have a glass of water?” Jack persuaded. 

“No.” 

“A cookie?” 

“Jack…..” Hotch sighed. 

“One more. Story,” Reid agreed, taking Jack’s hand. Daddy and Papa exchanged a glance, and Daddy looked ready to say no, but Papa tilted his head and whispered, "In Twenty. Years. You will wish......" 

Daddy was nodding, his eyes moist as he fought with a smile. Papa didn't say anything else. Jack leapt up excitedly, and tugged Papa towards the door before Daddy could disagree. Reid smacked the door frame, grunted in pain, and let himself be dragged into the hallway. He managed to get a hand on the railing, and used it at a firm object to lean on. Jack glanced back at his bed. Why was Daddy still sitting? 

Hotch had a sweet and sad look on his face. He picked up the angel off Jack's table, and carried her along. 

“One more story,” Daddy agreed.


End file.
